Wednesday, March 03, 2010

Tapping the Void


A "tapping attack" as I call them; someone tapping on something that "needs" percussive force, but as mentioned before, I have yet to find a source for this noise, and there are only so many legit tapping activities in this predominantly built up residential area. Then there are variants of tapping as well; a sonorous echo variant as if a large hollow wood beam was being driven into place for five or more minutes, then the metallic ringing variant, as if it were steel rods being driven in, and metal bashing variants, as if there were connected sheet metal pieces being whacked, like automobile components. Then there are variants of the percussive frequency, two per second or so to one per two or three seconds, stretching the ludicrous as to it being of gainful human endeavor.

I suspect the perps are putting on a noise flurry today for reasons that may later unfold, like heading out to the First Feral Family locations to do gardening work. Yesterday it was the in-town brother's place and this 3' wall that flopped over in the winter, and I dug out behind it. I shouldn't of been too surprised to get a later soil clodded Fuckwit gangstalker sitting immediately in front of me on the bus when outbound to the college for evening classes. Like WTF, who goes out to a college like they just finished a shift on the farm? Only around me it seems, and never mind the coincidence of him being dressed in olive green, the same color as the first time wearing of my shirt. And since when do farm workers cut their pants short to reveal 5" of leg above their tall mid-calf socks? Only in the city where proximate Fuckwits are dressed for rain in a shirt (last night as well), and are wearing shorts in winter (last night and most every day). The hikey bikey dress code is getting stupid.

Then there are the props, reaching dumbshit proportions last night; three guitar acts made of two independent parties for my two block walk from the bus stop to the supermarket at 2220h last night, inbound from my classes. I don't know if that tops the absurdity level of the surfboard inside said store a few nights ago, along with the hippie blonde babe in fugly tight curly locks, (Favored blonde, Unfavored tight curly hair),  the ostensible owner. Yes, it is surfing season here, but that is some 60 miles away, not in these sheltered waters. And camping season has also sprung early; at least two campers, trailers, pickup box campers or motorhomes, each time I am out, not fitting the surfing crowd's income level either. The gentrified campers have arrived for whatever reason all to tow their show around downtown.

And orange colored/dressed gangstalking has increased since my mother gave me my monthly subsidy in the form of an orange colored $50 bill two days ago, Monday. That would explain the fucking weirds pacing and standing around me in the bank before I recieved the cash. And maybe that is why an orange-red Uhaul vehicle is stationed outside, doing squat, and no moving cover story to go with it.

Another street show last night, the fire alarm of the opposite residential tower went off while I was coming back from the local supermarket. That spawned flashing red ights in view from my desk, seen through the curtains, while eating Malteasers from a red bag. This Malteasers "addiction" has erupted with avengence in the last two months, and I am strangely compelled to eat them usually while the kettle is on the stove, warming up to boil water for tea. It used to be that I would eat the entire package while waiting for the kettle to boil and the tea to steep, shortly after purchase. But now it has moderated so I only eat half the package, and save the latter half for another teatime, suggesting that the perps have made certain red (packaging)/brown (chocolate coating on Malteaser)/yellow (inside Malteaser with crunchy eating noise), and put the latter half away in the cupboard, presumably as there are other energetic interactions the sickos want to test, e.g. shelf to package, shelf to Malteaser, in the package, and Malteaser in me. And so goes this absurdly complex energetic functional decomposition research that I am kept in, and mind slave to/for.

Back in the saddle after being called away to do more work for my in-town brother. This time it is rocks he wants, to rebuild his rock wall that flopped over. Off to the quarry, select and load rocks, and then back to his place with the almighty vehicular gangstalking arranged  us. The deal was that he would pick me up, and I get ready, only to wait an extra 20 minutes. It so happens he is parked at the local supermarket parking lot, and I am to meet him there. Since we are off to the quarry directly, I bring my new yellow leather with black fabric insert panel gloves, the ones purchased some six months ago in 09-2009. . And lo, if he didn't bring similar yellow gloves that I keep at his place, in a plastic bag with his yellow trimmed gloves. And who's gloves does he wear when handling the rocks? Why mine of course, the  ones that have been kept at his place for over a year, of yellow leather (faux deerskin), and have sprung two different sized holes on the end of the left glove fingers. The perps like to test my fingers directly against the material, whatever it may be, and it is why I haven't had a pair of work gloves last more than a few days before they spring finger tip holes, sometimes while on coffee break.

After his white trades van with appropriate rocks and both of us in the van getting ready to go, two Asian male gangstalkers come to loiter around just where we had been extracting the rocks from, posing through the windshield glass, and then through the open window, the chinless one getting a supporting role by coming in later and posing to be seen in profile at first. You know how it goes; (not so) Secret Asian Man... to the tune of the UK series, Secret Agent Man.

And then my brother has to change his clothes in the van when all the rocks were loaded in it, as he has to go to a house for garage sale purposes on his way back to his place, with me as the swamper to unload them all. Any excuse will do, all these gangstalker clothing changes, never mind the ones that they put me through, including getting ready for this rock work.

And as we pull out of the quarry area, why a yellow DHL truck parked in the driveway of the first house we pass by, and lo, if there wasn't a surfeit of yellow school buses, yellow trucks and other yellow vehicles. One change of direction, and it it back to red colored vehicles, three or four clustered together of identical deep metallic red, sometimes beside a parked one of the same color. Then another try with the yellow colored vehicles in a few more minutes once the red gangstalking vehicle "need" has been met. And all my regular readers will know how much I loathe red and yellow colors together, so it wasn't too much of a surprise to see just that, a yellow vehicle next to a red one, crossing paths momentarily.

And after arriving at my in-town brother's place, he went into a minor panic mode over imagined pressures, and had me unload all the rocks while he putzed in the house. These strange departures from active involvement, or more like sudden abandonment of the activity at hand are getting stranger all the time. Later, after I finished  hauling all the rocks out, he comes around just when I was finishing up, and handling the hose to wash the them, the near identical timing yesterday, except without intervening to suddenly need the hose for his vehicle this time.

And in a further abandonment of this rock wall project, he wanted me to do the concrete pouring for the foundation rocks on Friday, making out that he was going to be super busy then with his garage sale scouting. Whatever, he pays me for these projects, and I can do with the cash as the recent daffodil flower (read, yellow) picking job ended prematurely by 30 days last week.

And what is it that attracts the perps to rocks, breaking it, reorienting it and the rest of it, including sending in TI's and their shills/quislings to a rock quarry and lug rocks around? It is called petrovoltaics, the intrinsic energy related to rocks, the most prevalent material on earth.  (Another link here, and here and do a google search for more). This subject goes back to at least 1922 when Thomas Townsend Brown was studying the electromagnetic control of gravity.

Laundry is done, the smearing of soil on my pants and shirt when I had expressly made an effort that it wasn't going to happen. No rocks or soil covered objects touched my front or pants, and yet "somehow" I got filthed up. Which suggests the perps don't give a shit about causal events; if they want me to do laundry they apply their own dirt to my clothes. And that came with getting skunked on the washing machine, it being used by someone else. I meant to go back in an hour, and "forgot", leaving the laundry hamper in a new location for the interim. There are many more of these wait and sequence disruption games going on of late, and that was just another.

I did my month end accounting tonight, and not a single provocation to screw me around until the very end when I wanted to back up the files. In other words, at least 50 transactions where they didn't screw me over, though there were plenty enough forced typos and the display firing off to another screen. This is truly remarkable they finally left me alone to do this activity without turning it into an abusive fuckover scene.

Enough excitement for a day, time to blog off.


Anonymous said...

I have seen that back in late '04 or early '05. Here's the deal: I was in the library, and after about an hour, this girl leaves the library, and comes back wearing a very revealing top. So before she was well-covered, now she was showing off some of the "cleavage". I'm not sure what that was about, but maybe it's about the study of clothing changes as well as sexual arousal?

Yesterday was interesting. I got a "tour" of the annexed greehouse at the college, and as I walked around at a medium-slow pace, I noticed it was very warm and damp there. Same deal with the one climate-controlled computer lab back in '93-'94, where they had the Sparcstations. There was a humidity control where they kept this small workstation room at a fairly high level of humidity. I suppose that could be a "reminder" that the perps know about my recall of the humidity level from '93 in that computer room. Also, I suppose the combination of humidity and myriad of plants was somehow of great interest to the perps.

AJH said...

Answer to: I have seen that back in late...

Clothing changes around me are common, reiterating my contention that there are clothing color interactions with skin and all internal organs and fluids. I have seen half dressed Fuckwits in the supermarket in the evening, on the hiking trail and other public places where it is highly incongrous. And of course there is the sexual allure of bare shoulders and cleavage of younger women, which I get plenty of.

Greenhouses represent and interesting perp research realm. I was doing farm work from 09 to 11-2009 (last fall), and they would often cycle me from greenhouse to outside work and back again, even four times per day. I suppose the humidity level, i.e H2O content might aid perp resarch games, just as light rain often erupts before I head out. I reckon the perps are working on comparative sunlight exposure effects "through glass" and directly (outside). That is, the different energetic interactions of the human body between these two sunlight exposures, the glass filtering some of the UV, IR and perhaps some other energies. The perps also like to have their Fuckwits pose through vehicle windsheild glass, tempered and with a plastic layer in the center to prevent glass shards. The entire human perception of light, as well as interactions (light falling onto skin), is of intense perp interest as I have come to know it. Thanks for the comments.